pajautaa

poetry

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Nov. 25., 2009 | 03:57 pm
posted by: flog in pajautaa

dzejas mīļotājiem - tavs mīļākais dzejolis angļu valodā? tēma, garums, doma...nav no svara. nepieciešams uzveidot bukletu ar apm 10 lieliskiem dzejoļiem no paziņu loka. nu un ciba jau aši kā paziņu loks! (visnotaļ laiku ietaupošāks pasākums) :)


tencinu iepriekš!

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Comments {22}

az

William Blake

from: [info]az
date: Nov. 25., 2009 - 05:52 pm
#

The Fly

Little fly,
Thy summer’s play
My thoughtless hand
Has brushed away.

Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?

For I dance
And drink and sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.

If thought is life
And strength and breath,
And the want
Of thought is death,

Then am I
A happy fly,
If I live,
Or if I die.

nu, man ļoti patīk viņa "Auguries of Innocence", bet tas ir briesmīgi garš psalms, ieskatam pāris rindiņas:

Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.

It is right it should be so
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know,
Thro' the world we safely go.

Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born,
Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.

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Re: William Blake

from: [info]koijots
date: Nov. 25., 2009 - 06:18 pm
#

ūuu, Tu arī William Blake! :)
Man arī ļoti patīk Auguries of Innocence

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az

Re: William Blake

from: [info]az
date: Nov. 25., 2009 - 06:25 pm
#

Viljamam tagad būtu jāpriecājas ;]]]
jā, viņš ir mierīgs un, es nezinu vai vienmēr, bet reizēm diezgan godīgs.

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Skabičevskis

Re: William Blake

from: [info]begemots
date: Nov. 25., 2009 - 07:08 pm
#

vēl bija The Tiger no WB:

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

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